Stargate: Return of the Ancients, Season 2, Ep 7
by Aer-ki Jyr
Summary: Episode, "Learning Curve" Year: 2016
1. Chapter 1

"Move, move, move, move, move!" Jack yelled, jumping over a fallen tree trunk as he ran through the woods behind a quartet of American soldiers. The path was narrow, and thankfully meandering, else the Aschen anti-personnel drone that was tracking them would have had a clear shot at their backsides. As it was, they were barely staying ahead of it.

Its big brother had busted the bunker defense station at the stargate minutes ago, but was too big to navigate the thick forest. The smaller orbs accompanying it were, however, ideally suited to track down the fleeing Humans, even if they were lacking a bit in maneuverability. Get them in the open, however, and they were nearly unstoppable.

Jack had just gated onworld with a convoy of supplies and new personnel for the freshly minted firebase located over a high, tree-covered ridgeline from the stargate. He'd been talking with the gate guards, getting a lengthy report of the lack of activity when the Aschen dialed in and sent their drones through. The 50cal turrets had responded instantly, downing the first floating orb to emerge from the event horizon, but the next two pinpoint shot out the gunners on a pair of the turrets, through the narrow slits in the concrete bunkers.

Four more orbs came through before big brother showed up, nearly as wide as the stargate. It was a large scale hunter drone, and made quick work of the turrets themselves before floating off down the dirt road in pursuit of the vanishing convoy vehicles as they ramped up their speed to avoid the firefight taking place in their rear view mirrors. The firebase was more than seven miles away down the U-shaped road that skirted around the perimeter of the ridge.

Jack and about a dozen personnel had fled the gate defenses and headed into the woods just before the bunkers detonated in a shower of hot concrete and dust. There was a single trail leading up and over the ridge to the firebase less than a mile away…a shortcut that the guards used when vehicles weren't available, and now the only reason they were still alive.

The oscillating whine of the orbs' anti-grav engines were faintly audible from behind, and Jack knew they had multiple units in pursuit. Unlike the soldiers, the drones weren't dependent on foot travel and could fly through the trees off the path, which meant they could hit them from any direction.

A blue beam shot out from the left and impacted one of the soldiers in the shoulder as he ran for a split second before a tree blocked the beam, only allowing a tiny piece of it to hit its target. The man yelled and fell to the ground, his arm limp. Jack slowed for a heartbeat and yanked the man to his feet, not daring to completely stop running.

"Keep moving," he yelled into his ear, then released him and ran on. He didn't wait to see what happened…couldn't wait to see. He'd got the man to his feet and that was all he could do at the moment. With the drones so close behind he couldn't wait for anyone.

The old saying about a chasing bear and not being the slowest man flashed into his head as he caught up with the now three soldiers ahead of him on the trail. There had been others behind him, but he had no idea how many were left. In a moment he could very well be the last man in the bear's jaws.

"Move…your…ass!" he bellowed when he caught the slower moving soldiers.

"Trying!" one of them gasped, stumbling over a large root. The path wasn't smooth nor straight, and they were now running slightly downhill, making their footing even more perilous.

"Get down!" someone ahead yelled. O'Neill barely had time to realize what was going on before he stood face to face with the barrel of a rocket launcher.

"Oh!" he yelled, throwing himself into the brush as he juked out of the way, half tripping himself in the process. A powerful 'whiff' sounded next to his head and the rocket launched off the shoulder of the soldier that had come up the path from the opposite direction.

Jack turned to look back just in time to see the remains of one of the orbs fall to the ground some twenty meters back…no one else was visible behind them.

"Fall back!" the rocket launcher yelled, already backpedaling and retreating down the trail with the others.

Jack scurried to his feet and quickly caught up to the survivors as they ran the remaining quarter mile through the woods back to the firebase.

* * *

><p>"Colonel!" one of the firebase defenders yelled in greeting as Jack and the others ran out of the woods into the large clearing that had been carved out of the valley for the firebase. The Major and four guards were stationed at the fence line checkpoint waiting for them.<p>

"Baaack!" O'Neill yelled, pointing towards the base.

The Major hesitated, then began a hasty retreat as the survivors caught up with them. He'd received a brief radio message from the bunker guards that they'd been attacked and were fleeing on foot over the ridge. One of his men held his ground and took a knee, launching another anti-tank rocket into the tree line.

The Aschen drone took the hit to its shields, completely draining them of strength and leaving just enough explosion to tear open their pristine white outer shell. It fell to the ground as the guard quickly chucked the expended one-off launcher and hightailed it back to base…but just as he passed through the fence line gate a thin blue beam punctured his back and exited through his chest as another of the Aschen drones emerged from the tree line. He fell to the ground in a rolling bundle, then flopped over motionless.

The nearest wall turret started belting 50cal rounds across the wide open grassy area at the drone, doing little more than trying to distract it as O'Neill and the others ran across to the wall gate which was laying wide open for them. One soldier with a sniper rifle took a shot at the distant orb, only to have his round deflect harmlessly off its shields.

"Close it up!" the Major yelled as the last of the survivors slid through the gate. Two thick door sections slid across the gateway and clicked into place as mirror pairs of concrete/metal pylons rose up outside and inside the wall to stop any vehicular traffic that might attempt to ram the gate. Up top on the wall Jack heard another 50cal turret open up on the drones, along with the 'whiff' of a rocket being launched.

"We've got a fat boy headed up the road chasing the supply convoy I just brought," O'Neill told the Major as they both ran across the inner courtyard to the base HQ. "Any sign of enemy air support yet?"

"I checked first thing," Major Hastings said. "Nothing on orbital scans."

"We need an eye in the sky," Jack said as they slowed to a walk and entered the small base HQ.

"We'll be up in four minutes," one of the staffers said, overhearing the comment to the Major.

"Get every rocket launcher we can up on the wall," O'Neill ordered. "We need to take down as many of the Kenobies as we can before the fat boy shows up…if he's even coming here. Get me a comm to the convoy."

"Here, sir," a female staffer said, tossing him a headset.

Jack caught and slid it onto his head in one smooth motion. "Report?"

"We've lost our back two vehicles, but for the moment the terrain has put us out of the enemy's line of sight. We're making best speed to the firebase, but this road is shit, sir."

"Good, Lieutenant. Bring them here. Under no circumstances take the road to the mines, factory, or airfield."

"Copy that."

"Make sure the rest of the convoy knows," O'Neill insisted.

"Will…do, sir," the Lieutenant stammered as the lead Humvee hit a pothole.

"Carry on," he said, handing the headset back to the woman.

"Make ready to bring in the convoy," he ordered the Major.

Hastings nodded. "You heard the Colonel! Let's move people!"

* * *

><p>The airfield, situated 5 miles northeast of the firebase, was so new that only half the runway had been paved, with the construction equipment sitting at the far end when the unarmed Predator took off and began gaining altitude. Its belly mounted surveillance equipment gave the firebase a good view of the incomplete airfield and the surrounding forest as it traced its way up the dirt road leading to both the firebase and the not so new mining complex situated across 50 square miles to the east.<p>

The planet, designated P7T-882, had been a naquadah mining site for Stargate Command for the past 7 years, but had seen a drastic increase in staff and resources since the start of the Aschen War and was now mining a variety of different materials from the low mountain chain situated around the stargate, including trinium, iron, nickel, silver, and carbon. There were 16 separate mining units in the overall complex, and none of them had so much as a single gun turret in defense…only a handful of armed guards which would be useless against the Aschen orbs.

Further to the south was the planet's industrial complex, still in the construction stages. Two factories were operational, one producing structural components for the X-304 battlecruiser and the other foodstuffs to replace military rations that could no longer be sent via stargate from Earth. An agricultural sector for the colony, codenamed Pennsylvania, was in the planning stages but for the moment nothing more than preemptive clear-cutting had been accomplished in the area northwest of the firebase. At present all raw materials for the foodstuff factory were being shipping in via convoy through the stargate or brought en mass by one of the Americans' few cargo-hauling starships.

Small residential buildings were situated in both the mining and industrial camps, but no true residential section had yet been added to the American colony, though that was also in future plans. Under General Carter's command, as much infrastructure as possible was being relocated from Earth to American holdings elsewhere in the galaxy and 'Pennsylvania' was one of an ever growing number of colony worlds that had begun to show results.

"What have we got?" Jack asked as the Predator finally gained enough altitude and distance to come in view of the stargate.

"The gate appears to be shut down," the Major commented, looking over the shoulders of his command staff as O'Neill watched the main feed on the big screen. "No activity around the gate. Follow the road," he ordered the pilot.

"Colonel," the Corporal at the comm station called out. "Perimeter guard says all attacking drones have been destroyed."

"Good," Jack said, grateful to see the mechanical bastards die. "Tell them to stay on guard until we figure out how many more are out there."

"Yes, sir," she said, relaying the message.

"There!" the Major said, pointing at a tiny dot on screen. "There's the big one."

"It's got company," one of the staffers noted as the Predator flew closer, yet still maintained a high enough altitude to avoid drawing fire. "I count three smaller drones."

"Hold up," the Corporal said. "There are multiple groups. Narrows checkpoint says the convoy just passed with a single large drone in pursuit."

"How many do we got? Come on people, I need numbers!" O'Neill barked.

The Predator continued to fly further up the road until it hit the 'narrows' point where the dirt path split between the offshoot to the industrial complex and the U-turn through a low point between two ridges that led back to the firebase. It turned north and hopped over the ridgeline, quickly spotting both the convoy and the following heavy Aschen drone.

"Two groups confirmed," the Major stated. "One with escorts, one without."

"Keep a lookout for stragglers," O'Neill pointed out. "The small ones can move through the trees."

"Convoy arrival estimated at 10 minutes," another staffer said. "First Aschen drone estimated at 11 to 12 minutes. Second group 20 plus."

Jack nodded. "Send all available troops to the front wall, outfitted with as much ordinance as they can carry." He turned and looked at the Major. "Get the Abrams ready."


	2. Chapter 2

Jack watched from the HQ monitors as the firebase's four M1A2 Abrams tanks rolled out the front gate and spread themselves in a line across the grassy kill zone that surrounded the firebase, taking aim on the dirt road where it emerged from the forest. Two situated themselves north of the road, two south as the first Humvee in the convoy came into sight, bouncing up and down as it tore into the clearing.

Behind it came an assortment of other vehicles, all customized for decreased width so as to fit through the stargate, which gave the trucks a bread loaf motif, stretched out far longer than they normally were designed to be. There were 19 vehicles in total…two pinched down Humvees, three Jeeps for use by the firebase, and 14 cargo trucks. They were staggered erratically, all emerging from the forest as quickly as they could navigate the as of yet unpaved roads, trying to stay ahead of the Aschen heavy hunter orb in pursuit.

Fortunately the Aschen weapon was neither fast nor graceful. It had been designed for battlefield domination, not speed. It hovered two meters off the ground and lazily pursued the convoy down the road, unable to fly high enough to skirt over the ridgeline and intercept them, given the altitude limitations of the repulsorlift technology that it was employing. It had a ground clearance maximum of 6.2 meters…good enough to move up and over obstructions or low walls, but not enough to be considered an aircraft by any measure.

The Aschen anti-personnel drones were ever further limited to a mere 2.4 meter clearance, given their smaller size and mission requirements, though their cruising speed was more than twice that of their larger twin. The three in distant pursuit of the convoy didn't push the pace, however, tasked instead to accompany the larger orb as escorts.

"Colonel, narrows reports second enemy group not….repeat, _not_ following the convoy. They've taken the road to the industrial zone."

"Damn it," Jack swore in a whisper. "Deploy the Predator to keep an eye on them and radio ahead for the factory to evacuate."

"Where to? There's only one road in and out."

"Away from the enemy…into the woods if they have to. They are not to engage under any circumstances. Tell them to run, _now_," he emphasized.

"Yes, sir," the Corporal said with a curt nod.

"Are my rocket launchers in position?" Jack asked.

"Yes, sir," Hastings confirmed.

"Pull two of them off the wall and get them into that Humvee," Jack said as it pulled into the base, skidding to a halt. "I want them repositioned in the woods, one on each side of the road, to flank that bastard when it comes into the kill zone. Tell them to hold fire and let the tanks have the first shot."

"On it," the Major said, running out the door. He knew they only had minutes to position the men before the Aschen drone arrived.

Looking around during the brief moment of calm before the fight, Jack spotted the HQ weapon locker and walked over to it.

"Who has the key?" he asked.

"Here, sir," one of the staffers said, pulling it out of a desk drawer and tossing it to him. It missed wide and hit the locker, then fell to the floor. Jack picked it up and quickly undid the padlock.

He pulled open the two doors and saw an arrangement of P-90s, sidearms, and stacks of ammo. Knowing that it wouldn't do much good against the Aschen drones' shields, Jack picked up a P-90, feeling a bit more secure as he slid a magazine in. This was the last time, he swore to himself, that he went offworld unarmed, boring convoy duty or not.

"The Major reports first man in position," the Corporal repeated.

Jack nodded. "Get me the tank commander."

She tapped a few keys and activated the speaker phone for the Colonel while she retained the primary headset to stay in touch with other units. "Go ahead."

"This is Colonel O'Neill…what's your status?"

"In position and ready to fire on your command, sir."

"Don't wait on me," Jack deferred. "As soon as you have a shot you take it…and don't let up until it's scrap parts."

"Affirmative."

Jack looked over at the primary screen, which held the camera view of the main road. He could see one of the tanks and the last of the convoy trucks passing out of view and into the base. Past the tank the Humvee was pulling a tight U-turn in the grass and headed back the across the road, intent on getting away from the kill zone as fast as possible and circling around to the north gate of the firebase past the tank line on the east.

As soon as the Humvee hit the dirt a blue glob of energy struck out from the tree line and flashed past the rear of the vehicle, missing it by inches and impacting the ground twenty meters down the road. The concussion wave bounced the Humvee up on its right wheels for a moment, but didn't stop its now panicked escape. It tore through the grass and out of the way of the Aschen drone, eclipsing its line of fire almost immediately.

The turrets on two of the tanks readjusted slightly, waiting for it to clear the tree line. Before it did, however, the tank nearest the road on the south side fired a preemptive shot through the trees as it spotted bits of white orb through the shrubbery, with the cannon boom loud enough to rattle Jack's ears all the way back in the HQ.

The 120mm round tore through some insignificant tree branches and impacted the leading edge of the white orb, impacting its blue shields which absorbed and deflected the projectile, rippling as if in agitation. Three seconds later a second round from the tank to the North of the road hit in almost the same spot, a split second before the orb fired another glob of blue energy at the first tank that had attacked it.

Unlike the blue anti-personnel beams that the smaller drones used, the anti-armor version wasn't instantaneous. There was a small firing lag between launch and hit, which had saved the Humvee from destruction. It appeared as if the Aschen device were throwing blue-hot rocks out of an insanely fast slingshot…considerably less accurate than the pinpoint precision of their smaller beam weapons.

To the tank, however, it didn't matter. The intense energy packet tore through the forward armor plating and detonated inside, blowing the cupola off the top and high into the air like a child's toy. The bottom portion of the tank lifted up in rebound from the explosion, almost flipping over before it landed on its side and fell back to the ground on fire. A moment later the cupola landed off to the side, along with bits of the personnel that had been inside.

The other two tanks fired a moment later as the orb came into view. Their nearly simultaneous shots hit and drained the Aschen shields. With a muffed 'pop' they failed and the last projectile, partially depleted of momentum, struck the orb's shiny white armor and put a good sized dent in it.

Out of the woods from both sides came single streaks of smoke that detonated on the now unshielded drone. They tore two large chunks out of either side, apparently damaging the lift coils because the orb sunk on the left and began an awkward spin as it fired at the second tank.

A plume of dirt exploded next to the Abrams, missing it by two meters. The spin of the drone had thrown off its targeting.

Unfettered by such motion, the stationary tank returned the favor and a put a round clean through the mechanical monstrosity. It exited out the back, shredding the interior and contorting the outer shell. Small internal explosions ensued as the junked drone fell to the ground in pieces.

A cheer rose up across the base, from both those in the HQ and the men on the walls. The northernmost tank put another round into the debris for good measure, making sure it was truly dead.

"Major, round up the jeeps, Humvee, four wheelers…anything that moves and get our men with rockets mobile. Corporal, get me the tank commander again."

"Dead, sir," she reported sourly. "Patching you through to one of the others."

"Let me talk to all of them then," Jack told her.

"Yes, sir…go ahead."

"Listen up, fellas," he began. "Good work out there, but this battle isn't over yet. We've got a second group of Aschen drones headed for the factory. Three small ones plus another big bertha. Get after them."

"Gladly," a staticy voice responded.

* * *

><p>A lone cloaked cargo ship emerged from hyperspace in high orbit over the planet Chesna, immediately detecting the energy signatures of the Aschen Elementals over the planet in three distinct groups. One was a cluster of 18 individual blocks floating lazily in orbit. The second was a pair of 6 block 'cutters,' with the third and largest group that of a 50+ block 'frigate.' Beneath their geosynchronous orbit lay the planet's stargate, the native population, and the growing Aschen infrastructure.<p>

The Chinese cargo ship had but one occupant, and she carefully navigated a path to the surface far from the orbiting fleet, knowing that Aschen sensors had the ability to penetrate crude or close-ranged cloaking fields. The original settlement on the planet had contained over 15,000 inhabitants in a sprawling renaissance-era city…now it had expanded in size, adding a number of Aschen warehouses, factories, and agricultural zones, all staffed by the locals and overseen by a handful of offworlders that tended to reside inside the gleaming five story tall spire that served as both governmental headquarters and a ground-based defense turret.

The Chinese pilot held her breath as she skimmed low over the crowded city streets, keeping the cloaked cargo ship between as many buildings as possible as she approached the spire. So far no indications of her presence being detected had manifested themselves, and she was now within half a mile of the enemy structure.

Dipping even lower, she flew the cargo ship down the main street that led to the spire only three meters above the ground, scaring the citizenry with a sudden rush of air coupled with the strange alien sound of the unseen ship's engines. The disturbance didn't matter though, as long as none of the military units noticed her presence.

When she was within 300 meters of the spire a thin blue beam struck her ship and gouged a long seam on the port side as she flew past, simultaneously penetrating her cloaking field. The anti-personnel drone roaming the city streets below passed by in a flash, but even as the ship's cloaking field reestablished itself in a chromatic ripple the upper section of the spire began to unfold.

"_Too late_," she commented, swinging the invisible ship about on its side and setting down a few meters from the spire, well below the firing arc of the heavy beam cannon deploying above. She went back to the aft compartment and knelt down on both knees in front of the naquadah-enhanced nuclear weapon, activating the 20 second countdown and reciting a small prayer.

"_For Earth_," she said, just before the device detonated, destroying both the cargo ship, the Aschen spire, the surrounding city, and everything else within a 20 mile radius.

* * *

><p>Sitting in his disgustingly primitive office, the Chinese 3rd Regional Director received an intelligence update, indicating that their mission to destroy the Aschen-held settlement on Chesna had been a complete success. The report went on to say that while the orbital forces had been unaffected by the surface blast, the entire city, including all known Aschen infrastructure, had been obliterated while the Chappa'ai had been dislodged, but not destroyed, making it inaccessible but recoverable. The report went on to say that after a very brief period of time after the attack the Aschen had removed their orbital defense force from the system, essentially conceding the loss of the planet.<p>

The man smiled cruelly. _Success at last_.

He stood up, thumbing the comm button on his unimpressive desk. This was the third victory for the Chinese Earth faction in the past six months, but by far the most effective. The previous two 'wins' had been defensive campaigns resulting in high casualties and, more importantly, significant depletion of their limited fleet, which at the moment was comprised of hundreds of 'converted' cargo ship designs, modified X-302s, and a few dozen small warships, each not much larger than an Alkesh, built of Human tech with the few Asgard upgrades that the I.O.A. had managed to reverse engineer from their copy of the Asgard Core, half of which had been lost during those two engagements.

What they lacked in technology the Chinese were making up for in numbers. The 3rd region alone had grown to encompass 78 worlds, spread across more territory than many former System Lords used to possess. Chesna was located within that territory, though it had never been a Chinese possession. It's proximity to their other worlds made its elimination necessary, as well as the small reduction that the attack had made on the overall Aschen war machine. As the Chinese were fond of saying, a great enemy that cannot be defeated with one fell swoop may otherwise be killed through a thousand small cuts…and Chesna had been the first China, or any other faction from Earth, had managed to achieve.

A female in a Chinese military uniform quietly entered his office and stood at attention.

"_The attack was a success_," Klorel said in perfectly fluent Chinese, thanks to his host. "_Send the others at once_."

"_Immediately, sir_," she said, bowing slightly and retreating from his office.

Klorel walked back behind his desk and looked out the wide window down on the thick forest. It extended off into the distance with various buildings rising up above the greenery. Not far off to his right stood the construction cranes actively servicing the construction crews working on the X-305 prototype. The design had been the first of the Earth defense force series that had not included American involvement.

Rather, it owed its design to the Goa'uld who, utilizing the Asgard database, had succeeded in creating a ship design superior to any previous Ha'tak…though they had needed to dumb down the blueprints to match the crude Human aesthetic, lest they tip their hand in the construction. There was only so much intelligence in the Humans, and any major leaps of technology that could not be contributed to the Asgard tech had to be doled out slowly to avoid suspicion…which made the American withdrawal from the I.O.A. so fortuitous. The other Human factions were much more gullible.

Klorel looked out at the nearly complete prototype, a full third larger than the X-304, with a mixture of anger at his deplorable situation…having to masquerade as these pathetic Humans…and an eagerness to take the fight back to the enemy. The Aschen War must be fought and won, Hera had declared and he agreed. Earth and its ignorant Human population was to be their vehicle of conquest, and would herald their return to dominance over the galaxy, and as such they must be protected at all costs.

What skill and experience Earth lacked in warfare, the Goa'uld would readily supply.


	3. Chapter 3

The quartet of Aschen drones floated down the road into the industrial section of 'Pennsylvania' finding nothing but a ghost town. Heat signatures were still visible on many pieces of construction machinery, but they were currently powered down and unnamed. Not finding any living targets or threatening machines upon arrival, the drones spread out in a sweeping formation to scan the remainder of the half constructed buildings.

One of the anti-personnel drones made its way inside the open cargo doors of the foodstuff factory, searching the interior for workers. The drones were enabled with a hunter protocol designed to rid a planet of its native population for later recovery by the Aschen…rather than a 'scorched earth' policy wherein they destroyed all personnel and infrastructure. They had many different protocols that could be used in lieu of an onsite control unit, but for this mission the Aschen were interested only in probing the Tau'ri defenses. If they happened to pick up possession of the planet in the process, so much the better.

The trio of tanks arrived at the industrial complex when the drones were on the far side, spreading out around the narrow clearing at the entrance, giving all three better lines of fire as well as clearing the way for the Humvee and jeeps to pull through. They accelerated and dove down the exterior street rimming the area, splitting up into two groups. One headed south, the other east while leaving the tanks at the entrance point where they could cover both sidelines.

First contact was made by the south-heading group when a jeep drew fire from one of the anti-personnel drones in a side street. Its narrow blue beam just impacted the edge of a building as the jeep blurred by and out of sight, shielding the driver who otherwise would have been skewered. The jeep in question didn't notice the attack, but the one behind it did and slid to a stop just past the building and disgorged two rocket launchers.

The men stepped clear of the jeep and took a knee, waiting for the drone to round the corner as the first jeep moved on to the end of the street and took a left, rounding the bottom left corner of the giant box that made up the industrial zone.

With a whisper-whine preceding it, the anti-personnel drone floated into sight and quickly killed one of the rocket launchers with a precision beam before the man could even pull the trigger. A split second later the other man fired his weapon at nearly point blank range, breaching the orb's shields and knocking its carcass back across the street, taking most of the shrapnel with it, although one small piece blew back and hit the soldier in the leg as he was knocked down by the concussive blowback.

He tossed the used launcher aside and limped over to his dead friend, appropriating his launcher as the jeep drove up next to him. He climbed aboard as his leg wound slowly bled out, sticking his camouflaged pants to his leg in an ever growing dark spot. The jeep drove off, following the path of its twin in search of the other three targets.

The Humvee found the heavy drone first, avoiding its fire and drawing it out and back towards the tanks. When it emerged at the northeast corner of the industrial complex, more than a half mile away, the tanks swiveled their turrets around and fired as the large orb seemed to crawl towards them, not yet firing in return. One of the three rounds struck, only to deflect off its shields.

When it closed within 700 meters it fired back, hitting the center tank in the port tread, blasting it to shreds and tipping the tank up on its side, where it rocked back and forth for a moment before holding steady at a cockeyed angle dripping small globules of flaming oil from the where the front corner used to be.

The drone fired again, before the tanks could reload, and blew apart the rightmost tank with a clean shot into the turret, essentially decapitating the war machine. The drone rotated slightly, bringing the small surface dent that was its firing port in line with the third tank as the Tau'ri machine fired another 120mm slug directly into its forward shields. The square hit drained more energy, but wasn't enough to take them down, nor was the rocket launched from behind as one of the jeeps rounded the corner and fired on the target.

Just then a streak fell from the sky and smashed into the drone, knocking it aside and puncturing what was left of its shields. The drone was more or less undamaged, but its firing arc had been knocked off the tank, delaying its killing shot for several valuable seconds.

The wreckage of the kamikaze Predator obliterated as the tank fired a third round straight through it and into the heavy drone. Without any shields, the orb blew apart in a water balloon-like explosion of shrapnel, some of which hit the shields of the anti-personnel drone emerging from a cross street.

It shot the driver out of the jeep, sending the vehicle into an uncontrolled twist and barrel roll, throwing the other two soldiers out like rag dolls onto the ground, breaking bones when they landed. The one that had been sitting shotgun was immediately targeted and killed by another thin blue beam, shot before he even had a chance to stop rolling across the ground.

The drone came to a stop just past the buildings as it killed the downed soldier, then reoriented slightly to target the third, hovering in place long enough for the tank to get a well placed and, frankly, lucky shot from more than 400 meters out. The drone suddenly vanished from sight, the debris so small and scattered that it looked like it was pulverized into dust by the tank shell.

The remaining intact Abrams swiveled its barrel towards the buildings and began crawling forward, scanning each street for sight of the last drone. It found it a minute later, coming out of the foodstuff factory and firing its blue beam at the cupola of the tank.

The armor held, thanks to its thickness, and the tank turned and accelerated down the cross street, not expecting to get another lucky shot at range. The drone fired three more times in rapid succession, each hitting a different place on the tank and none of them cutting all the way through the armor. When the tank came within 100 meters its gunner finally fired, clipping the drone and knocking it sideways into the wall of the factory.

It bounced off, shields down, and fell sputtering to the ground…then arced back up into the air with half its right side missing, but still somehow able to fly. It moved towards the tank as the Abrams quickly reloaded…but not fast enough. The drone flew up to the front of the tank and nudged into the barrel, exploding on contact.

The tank crew was jarred by the explosion, and the tank's barrel was slightly bent out of alignment, but that was all the damage the self-destructing drone achieved.

"Did that thing just explode on its own?" the tank driver asked.

"I think so," Harrison said.

"I didn't know they could do that."

"Live and learn," the commander said, taking stock of the situation. "I think that was the last of them."

"You mean we won?" the gunner asked.

"I think so…for now anyway. They could send reinforcements any time they like."

"But we won," the loader echoed. "That's a first, right? We've lost every engagement in the war so far."

Harrison nodded. "Could very well be."

The gunner and loader exchanged glances.

"Tank beats Ghost," the gunner began.

"Tank beats Hunter," the other added.

"Tank beats everything!" the driver finished the Halo quote/cheer.

The commander smiled as he got on the radio, contacting first the flipped tank, confirming that the crew was still alive, then getting in touch with the firebase.

"Colonel O'Neill, we have casualties, but I'm pleased to report that the threat has been neutralized."

"Good to hear," Jack said. "We'll get some medics and recovery crews out to you soon. How many did we lose?"

"Two tanks down, one crew is still alive. My tank is mobile, but I don't trust the barrel to fire, I think it's torqued."

"You still mobile?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good…I need you to do me a favor. Get to the stargate and dial Reach. After I send a status report I want you to push the gate over so we can bury it."

Harrison's face turned grim. "Understood, sir. We'll be there as fast as we can," he finished, then yelled ahead at his driver. "Riley, get us to the stargate before those bastards can send reinforcements through."

"Moving out," the driver acknowledged, spinning the tank around in a 180 then charging off at 30 mph back to the stargate, several miles away down the dirt road.

* * *

><p>Ronon was smashed backwards onto the training mat, with the replicator releasing his neck and standing up patiently looking down on him. "Not good enough," it repeated for the 42nd time in their sparring match.<p>

The Setidan picked himself up and looked at the female version replicator with a sneer, but made no move to strike 'her' again. This was his third week of training in Atlantis, awaiting mobilization orders to return to battle else he would have already been back on Yavin. Sheppard had requested that he stand by for deployment, but so far that hadn't come to pass.

Ever since the fall of Leesat the Alterra had been engaging the Wraith and 'Romulans,' as Sheppard had begun to call them, in a widespread series of space battles as they sought to draw the enemy out by attacking the Wraith inner core worlds. Their attempts were met with varying responses, but enough enemy resistance was being drawn out into battle to begin the war of attrition, pitting the vastly superior Columnars and their less effective escorts against the Wraith's superior numbers. On occasion the Romulans would intervene, and none of the Wraith worlds had been reached, let alone taken, but that didn't diminish the massive level of fighting involved.

At present all Columnars and their task forces were deployed on attack assignments, leaving planetary defenses and the limited Lantean fleet to guard the home front. To date, no other Alterran/Lantean world had been attacked, suggesting that the enemy was too busy fighting off the Columnars to begin gathering the necessary numbers to even think about assaulting another Sanctuary world.

That said, the Romulans were curiously unaccounted for in most battles against the Wraith, floating the question of what exactly they were up to? Janus's alternate reality information suggested they could have a massive warfleet at their disposal. Was this not true of this reality or were they up to something devious?

Ronon didn't know, and he didn't like just sitting on the sidelines while his friends went into battle. Sheppard had indicated that something was coming, and that was good enough for him, but he wished it would hurry up. In the meantime he had little else to do aside from training to occupy his attention…that and his bet with Stevenson.

"What level are you at?" Ronon asked the replicator.

"Level six. Not all that hard, wouldn't you say?"

Ronon's lip twitched, but beyond that he didn't respond to the barb. Ryan had made this replicator specifically for him, and it behaved different than the others. On top of the Alterran training data files, biometric sensors, and interactive combat training lessons it had been equipped with, it apparently was also designed to irritate and provoke the Setidan into anger…which usually resulted in Ronon striking the pathetic machine, only to have it respond with superior force and kick his ass. Never enough to permanently damage its ward, but enough to bruise him up, just for remembrance sake.

And even though he knew it was just a machine, Ronon cursed the Alterra for making it a female.

"Scan me again."

The replicator walked up calmly and gripped his shoulder with one hand while displaying a hologram in the palm of the other outlining a myriad of analysis data that was summarized with a grid of tiny hexagons with +/- numbers in them, all colored either yellow or blue.

Ronon sneered in disgust at all the yellow icons. About a tenth showed blue, as usual, and his eyes traveled to several particular ones, namely the Elnar rate, Irettion level, and summative respiratory efficiency rating. All were yellow, meaning below acceptable levels with slight damage incurring on a daily basis as a result, which in less advanced civilizations was erroneously referred to as 'growing old.'

Ronon's previous Elnar rate had been -5.4%, but that was a considerable improvement over the -7.8% he had begun with. Today it hadn't altered, stuck at -5.4%, though that wasn't altogether bad. In the beginning Ronon had been dismayed to see virtually all of his statistics worsen by .1% or .2% over the first few months in cumulative total, but vary as much as one or two percent in a matter of hours depending on what he had done, or not done, during the day.

The more he trained using the Alterran methods, the more stabile his numbers became, but they still fluctuated somewhat. It seemed the more intense the activity, notably returning from battle exhausted or wounded, would skew the numbers. He was learning the hard way that everything he did during the course of a day had an effect on both his body and his mind.

In fact, a third of the colored hexagons in the hologram were icons for mental statistics. According to the replicator, the mind and the body were connected, and what affected one would affect the other, and Ronon had noted on previous occasions how certain icons were linked to others, such as a mental aspect for vision processing was linked with an overall stress rating…and when the stress level went up, the vision processing diminished.

There were many other combos, but most were multi-faceted and couldn't be completely isolated. It felt to Ronon like every time he made improvement in one area it would push three others down. He was so frustrated at times that he was tempted to take Stevenson up on his offer.

But his Setidan pride wouldn't have it, so he persisted on in between combat assignments.

Today, however, his Irettion level was in the blue…meaning it was momentarily on the upswing. It wasn't an aspect of his physiology that was required for self-sufficiency like his healing rate, instead it was a strength level measurement of his, for lack of a better term 'speed of movement.' It was one of more than a dozen agility measurements and one that he had been training specifically for.

He rated a 43.6 today, which was up 3.2 since his last measurement three days ago. That surprised him. He hadn't seen any of his stats rise so drastically…but then again speed had never been his strength, and according to the Alterran files, when training a weakness it was common to see significant changes early on.

Ronon had to admit, despite his dislike for the replicator, that it was the perfect training tool. It was programmed with multiple skill levels to spar with and, unlike a living opponent, wouldn't deviate so much as a twitch from its programmed routines. Ronon had been training hard against it, trying to increase his reflex speed and getting his ass kicked repeatedly. He knew from his Setidan training that sometimes the only way to learn was to throw yourself into the challenge head first and fight your way out.

Level 6 for the replicator was low, but more than Ronon could handle. He'd succeeded in defeating it on level 3, and could hold his own at 4, but he knew that in order to improve he had to fight a superior opponent, so he stubbornly passed up level 5 and set it on 6, getting his ass kicked over and over again…but apparently his body/mind was adapting, which was the point.

His respiratory rating was one of the big indicators of his fitness and current trend. It was currently yellow, but only at -.3% meaning that for every exertion that he put himself through or incurred from the environment, such as heavy breathing from sparring or trying to breathe into a strong wind that seemed to pry the air out of his lungs, he would subsequently heal the micro-damage incurred.

This was normal for all biological functions. Damage was constantly occurring from use, and then healed. A negative trend meant that every time the healing occurred, it wasn't comprehensive enough and left a tiny bit of damage behind. -.3% was negligible and essentially neutral, but if that number held it would rack up damage over the space of a year or two which would accrue and diminish his abilities…as well as affect his trend, increasing that figure to -.5% or so. Go through another year and more micro-damage and he'd lose more ability, plus the trend would spike to -.8% and so on.

The worse off you were, the harder it was to pull yourself back from the brink, and given that accrued damage affected your rate, if you allowed the process to 'snowball' you had little chance of recovering. Your condition would continue to deteriorate and you would eventually die from 'old age,' though technically you would never be beyond a theoretical recovery. Catch was, if you were lazy enough or ignorant enough to lose ground when you were 'fit,' then there was no way you would have what it takes to pull yourself back from catastrophic system failure when it neared.

Ronon had to get his primary trends in the blue, otherwise time was his enemy and every second that passed saw him weakening, imperceptibly so…save to the replicator that could monitor his decline with mathematical clarity.

But if Ronon _could_ get his rates in the blue, even .1%, then time would become his ally and self-sufficiency would be achieved…or so the Alterran files indicated. Given his lack of progress Ronon doubted that it was actually possible. He was fitter than any other Human he'd met, and if he couldn't do it he doubted that it could be done.

That said, he wasn't done yet.

"Harder than it looks?" Ryan asked, walking up behind Ronon in the Atlantis gym.

"I was wondering when you would show up," he said, pointing his finger at the Alterran. "This isn't over yet."

"I didn't say it was…but apparently you are having some doubts."

"I'll make it," he said confidently. "You here to gloat?"

"I don't do much gloating," Ryan said with a hint of sarcasm. "I leave that to Sheppard."

"What do you want?"

"To give you a lesson the replicator can't," he said, holding up a pair of small triangular devices in the palm of his hand.


	4. Chapter 4

"What sort of lesson?" Ronon asked, eyeing the devices.

"Sometimes it's useful to study a superior warrior in order to get a glimpse at the ability levels that lie before you, otherwise sometimes you feel like you're fighting in the dark. You understand that, don't you?"

'"If you want to be the best," Ronon quoted, "you have to train with the best.' So what, you want to spar with me?"

Ryan smiled. "No, I think we can do a little better than that." He telekinetically floated one of the small triangles up in the air between them. "This device allows for remote telepathic control. Attach it to your forehead, please."

Ronon snatched it out of the air and studied it. "What does it control?"

"In this case, it'll control my body, and mine will control yours," Ryan said, attaching his own to his forehead. It activated with a tiny blue light in the center. "We'll body swap for a few minutes. It'll be painful for you, but you can handle that, right?" he challenged.

"I don't get it," Ronon said, frowning.

"You've lived in a Human body your entire life, and you're probably fitter now than you've ever been. It probably feels like you're near the top of your potential…this exchange will utterly destroy that misconception and, after seeing what's truly possible, I think your training will improve greatly."

"By switching bodies?" Ronon asked, only half believing him.

"Technically we're not switching, just seeing through each other's senses. Our core energies will remain where they are."

"I get to be in your body, with your powers?" Ronon asked to clarify.

"With my pain," Ryan cautioned. "My body is still in a constant state of flux and will remain so for the indefinite future. After what you've been through, I figure you can handle it for a few minutes, though I warn you, it may catch you off guard at first."

"Alright," Ronon agreed. "What do I do?"

"Just press the device to your forehead, I'll do the rest."

Ronon slid the cool metallic device up over his brow and pressed it on hard. It stayed put when he released, creating a slight numbing sensation.

"Don't try and use any of my 'special' abilities," Ryan warned. "They're difficult to control without training. Just get a feel for what it's like to be self-sufficient."

Ronon nodded once. "Do it."

Ryan closed his eyes and concentrated…when he opened them again he found himself staring at his own body from Ronon's point of view…and for the first time in several long years the persistent pain was gone.

So too was his fitness and most of his senses. He felt dull, heavy, inefficient…and tall as he watched 'Ronon' double over in pain.

The Setidan, now in the Alterra's body, caught himself before he hit the floor, dropping to a knee to steady himself.

"Wow," he uttered between clenched jaws. "You weren't kidding about the pain."

"I can break the link whenever you say," Ryan offered.

"No…I've got it," Ronon said, standing up and flexing his smaller arms, punching into the air experimentally. "This is crazy," he said in awe.

"Move around a bit," Ryan prompted. "It will take a while to adjust."

Ronon did as he was told and began walking circles around his own body. "Weird," he commented.

"What do you feel inside?"

"Light…really light," he said, jumping experimentally. He flew halfway to the ceiling, well above his own body's head, and came back down awkwardly, tripping on his feet and falling to the floor.

"Easy," Ryan cautioned. "Your reflexes aren't aligned with my body. Focus on your inner senses…" he said, looking at the replicator. "Scan him."

The female-version machine walked over and put a hand on 'Ryan's' shoulder, holding up her other hand with a holographic statistics display.

"Side by side comparison with previously recorded statistics," Ryan added.

The hologram split in two, one showing Ronon's statistics in his original body, the other showing Ryan's body's statistics…which were all dropping.

"Why are they going down?" Ronon asked, feeling an adrenaline surge in addition to the constant pain.

"You don't know how to use my body," Ryan explained, getting to the crux of the matter. "You can move my arms and legs, walk about, do everything you know how to do in this body," he said, gesturing towards the Setidan's that he now occupied. "But you don't have the knowledge, skills, or experience to 'wear' my body as I do, hence you're damaging it slightly."

"Damaging?" Ronon asked, mildly concerned.

Ryan squinted in focus, common for him but unusual to be seen on Ronon's face. "I believe you had an altercation with McKay a while back when he let you borrow one of his computers for some research."

"Yeah, he got mad when the stupid thing jammed up on me," Ronon remembered easily, but still focused on his shadowboxing. He was really liking Ryan's body's speed.

"You didn't know how to work the computer above and beyond some basic functions, which he should have realized and not gotten mad over."

"No kidding…"

"But then again you did cause the problem because you hit some keys you shouldn't have. McKay was able to fix the problem because he knew how the computer worked and was experienced with it."

"You're saying my…your stats are dropping because I don't know how to use your body? All I'm doing is standing here."

"Not true…your connection with the body is constant and misaligned. You are not Alterran, but you're in an Alterran body. You're incompatible because you're a newbie…do you know what that term means?"

"A beginner…"

"Yes. You can't handle my advanced body, and as a result you're messing up the settings. Not so much because of what you're doing, but because of what you're _not_ doing."

"Yeah, but the numbers are still positive, so how am I causing damage?"

"You're not…exactly. But you are diminishing my body's settings, or maybe you should think of it as my rhythm or, better yet, think of it was my internal balance. When we switch back I'll have to reset, so there's no real damage being done, thanks to the fact that my trends are so high."

"No kidding," Ronon said, looking at the replicator's display. He walked back within range and let her grab his shoulder again, and the numbers updated. "Your breathing rate is +7.8%…make that +7.7%. No wonder you never get out of breath training."

"Not true, but it does take a great deal more to cause me to reach respiratory overload. When I finish one of my runs I'm usually breathing hard."

"Speaking of which?" Ronon looked at his own face, asking.

Even without telepathy, Ryan knew what he meant.

"Go…" he told him, gesturing to the door. "Just don't fall on my face."

"Thanks," Ronon said, jogging out of the gym and heading down to the nearby track for a quick run.

He came back about ten minutes later, finding his own body sitting on the floor in a meditative pose.

"This is amazing," he commented

"Like I said, you've never known anything other than being Human."

"Do you guys switch up like this…I mean, for training and stuff?"

"Yes, on occasion. It helps to show one what we've accomplished rather than trying to explain it."

"Is this the way Sheppard feels too?"

"Yes and no. He's not in any pain, but his body isn't as fit or powerful as mine. I've got a head start on the others, thanks to the Repository of Knowledge's accelerated advancement programming…which, consequently, is what's causing the pain."

"You want to switch back now?"

"Not just yet, there's something else I want to show you," he said, standing up. "While you're in my body, it's abilities are diminishing because you aren't up to par with my 'powers'…but the opposite is true of me being in your body. I know a great deal more than you do, and thus, I can get more out of your body than you are. Observe…"

He had the replicator scan him again with a comparison to Ronon's own scan less than a half hour ago. To Ronon's surprise, nearly 45% of the icons were showing blue, compared to the 10% on his previous scan. Looking closer, Ronon noticed that the blue rate icons were barely over neutral, but blue they were…which meant that every second that went by, his body was improving/healing existing damage as long as Ryan was inside it.

Even the existing yellow icons were showing less negative numbers when compared to the other scan.

"How are you doing that?" Ronon asked.

"There is a great deal more," Ryan said as stoically as he could using Ronon's voice, "to living than Humans understand. The body is extremely complex, with many subtle senses that you haven't discovered yet. They are there, as you can witness now, and I am using them to readjust your settings, making you more efficient without any 'hardware' upgrades that must come from training."

"You're saying I'm not as good with my own body as you are?" he asked dismayed, but eager to learn, now that he had a new perspective. Looking at his own body he felt almost embarrassed at how primitive it was compared to the one that he was in now.

"I know how to use it to greater effect, so the problem isn't in that you are Human, it's that you are ignorant of your own potential…which I hope I have now alleviated somewhat."

"So…it's not a fool's errand then?" Ronon asked pointedly.

"Not if you're good enough."

"That's all I needed to know," Ronon declared. "Switch us back."

Ryan blinked and mentally severed the connection, feeling himself back in his own body with the constant pain returning. Still, he felt much better back in his own skin, pain or no.

Ronon meanwhile felt a great loss in the transition, but the searing pain was gone, and for that at least he was grateful. "I can't believe you put up with that pain every day without showing it."

"You wouldn't," he said, complimenting the Setidan.

Ronon broke a rare smile. "True."

Ryan reached a hand up into the air and the triangle on Ronon's head detached and floated into his outstretched fingers. "Carry on," he said pithily, leaving Ronon to his training.

The larger man turned back to the replicator, who was still displaying the holograms. "Continue sparring," he ordered.

She dropped the holograms immediately and jumped towards Ronon, lashing out with a straight right punch with no warning. Ronon had been expecting as much from the merciless machine, and caught it just in time, after which they engaged in their dangerous training dance with the replicator gaining the upper hand eventually, but Ronon was no longer frustrated at being beaten…he had a goal now that he _knew_ was attainable, and there was nothing in this galaxy that was going to stop him from achieving it.

* * *

><p>Three weeks after the assault on 'Pennsylvania' one of the American cargo ships landed on the planet, delivering supplies, 4 additional tanks, more troops, and a lot of bunker enhancements for the stargate, which was currently shut down with the gate buried under three feet of dirt.<p>

General Mitchell came with the ship and met up with Jack during the unloading, after which the Colonel would be returning to Reach. He'd originally been scheduled to remain on the planet for less than 6 hours, but with the Aschen attack and the subsequent burying of the gate, he'd received an impromptu vacation until the reinforcements could arrive.

"Heard you scored us our first win," Cam said, offering the Colonel his hand as he walked off the ship's boarding ramp.

"A costly one," Jack countered, but a win it had been none the less.

"Yeah, I heard you lost most of your tanks."

"They can handle the little guys, but we need numbers to take down the fat boys. One shot from them and an Abrams turns into a piece of toast."

"At least we know how to take them down now," Cam noted. "We brought three tank-caliber turrets for the gate, plus some missile launchers. If they come through again, we should be able to light 'em up immediately."

"No iris?"

Cam cringed. "No, not yet. I don't know why, but the damn things are taking a long time to build."

"This planet is too important to let fall into enemy hands," Jack reminded him. "On top of which, it's getting pretty obvious now that we have a security leak somewhere. This planet's address never should have fallen into enemy hands, and we know they didn't track us here by ship. Our hyperdrives are way faster than theirs."

"I hear you," Cam agreed. "We're looking, but we haven't been able to find any leaks yet."

"Keep looking," Jack said angrily. "We lost a lot of good soldiers here, when this planet should have been secure. We can't afford to keep making mistakes like this."

"I'm not so sure we did screw up," Cam wavered. "The Aschen didn't hit you with any air support."

"Meaning what?"

Cam shrugged. "Maybe they're exploring all gate addresses and they didn't know we'd be here."

Jack was silent for a moment. "I hadn't considered that."

"No way of knowing, but if they're exploring randomly then none of our worlds are safe."

"All the more reason for putting a damn iris on every gate we control."

"Carter's already requested four more, but they have to be shipped out from Earth."

Jack shook his head vehemently. "Not good enough."

"I know," Cam said softly. "Sam's working on it, but anything we can't make for ourselves out here is going to be tied up in bureaucracy."

"Then the solution is pretty damn simple," Jack said, his anger at Earth's stupidity rising by the second. "We build our own iris factory."

"I already ran the numbers…best case scenario is 8 months if we pull resources from other projects, which we're hesitant to do."

"I know we need more of everything," Jack said, taking a step closer to Cam and lowering his voice. "But we can't afford to give away planets to the Aschen on the cheap. They're kicking our asses coming through the stargate. We have to _make_ them come by ship, otherwise all those 'valuable resources' just end up in their hands anyway."

"You're right," Cam said, mentally kicking himself for not seeing the painfully obvious sooner. "Guess that's the advantage of having years of field experience under your belt. Me…at the end of some days I can't add two plus two, I'm so brain fried from all the paperwork."

"I can sympathize," Jack said, not pointing out the obvious fact that he didn't have any field experience, though it felt like he did thanks to the original O'Neill's memories, which he still could have swore were his own. "But if we put the damn bureaucracy ahead of the lives of our men and women on the front lines, then we don't deserve to win this war or any other…and we won't."

"Wish it was that easy."

"Make it that easy," Jack said, talking to the General as if he was the superior officer. From Cam's personal point of view Jack was and always would be, even if he was only a clone. "You and Carter are in charge, so do things the way they need to be done and to hell with Earth. I am sick and tired of us making the same mistakes over and over again. It's time to cut loose and the President has already given you the authority you need, now get the damn job done!"

Despite O'Neill's anger, Cam couldn't suppress a laugh. "It's good to have you back, sir…Colonel."

"Don't 'sir' me," Jack said, clapping Cam on the back to let him know his anger wasn't really focused on him. "No matter what rank we hold."

"Old habit," Cam complained.

"Yes, well…live and learn."

"Speaking of which, you really think we should bring up more tanks from Earth?"

"Definitely," Jack said without hesitation. "The days of a lightly armed SG team going through the gate and kicking ass are over…sadly enough. We need the big guns nowadays."

"First item on my to-do list when we get back," Cam promised. "Speaking of which, how about we get the stargate unburied?"

Jack shook his head. "Not until the gate defenses are built."

"We can dial out then have them park a truck inside to block incoming wormholes," Cam suggested.

Jack did a double take. "Will that work?"

"Don't see why not," Cam said, now unsure. "Won't it?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Well, we can dial in and ask Carter," he suggested. "If she says no, we can have them rebury it after we go through."

Jack inclined his head a moment while in thought. "Sounds like a plan…good thinking, General."

"I have my moments," Cam said, walking with Jack back to the firebase's HQ.


	5. Chapter 5

"Prefect," Markona said with respect as he met Neela at the entrance of the research facility and escorted her inside.

"I have need to consult the Oracle," the Aschen leader charged with wartime intelligence said calmly.

"Well timed," the associate researcher said as they walked through the pristine building on the planet Herdonis, one of the Aschen's original holdings before the war began. "They are in session now."

Neela nodded microscopically, but said nothing further until they reached the observation chamber. Inside was a lightly restrained Human beneath a mass of diagnostic equipment linked to a holographic display.

"We are currently probing the current location of the Alterra," Markona explained when Neela's gestures suggested she couldn't identify the images.

"You have had a breakthrough then?"

"Partially, yes. We believe he was attempting to hide this line of inquiry, but a brief slip allowed us to isolate this ship design. From there he could not resist the more exact references."

"What have you learned?"

"Our inquiry is incomplete, but it appears that the Alterra are busy conducting a war of their own, against a pair of enemies far stronger than any known in this galaxy, save perhaps for the Asgard. At present the outcome is indeterminate, though heavy fighting is ensuing."

"What is your current probability rating?"

"Over the past two months we've achieved an 83% match with the provided intelligence reports, though if these events are taking place in another galaxy, as we suspect, there is no way to corroborate."

"Suspend the current session. I have more pressing questions to ask."

Markona nodded. "What matter would you have us inquire about?"

"I will do the questioning myself," Neela insisted.

Markona inhaled deeply, but made no other gesture of discontent. "As you wish," he said, opening the sliding door into the Oracle's chamber.

When Neela entered the lead researcher halted his conversation with the Oracle and looked up at the intruder with a hint of disgust. "Prefect," he greeted her stiffly.

"I apologize for the interruption, but recent setbacks have occurred and the council needs answers."

"We require specifics for query," Larss reminded her.

Neela looked directly into the Oracle's eyes, which stared back with a pained anger. "In recent days four of our smaller colonies have been destroyed with single, large yield explosives. I need to know who is responsible."

The images on the hologram froze on a silhouette of a Wraith battleship being skewered by an Alterra energy beam. Larss noted the halt in the Oracle's far seeing abilities as a sign that he was resisting the questioning.

"Do you have any images of the planets or destruction? The Oracle requires visual stimuli for probing."

Neela pulled out a small data chip and handed it to the lead researcher. The man input it into the base of the holoprojector and cued up the images. When the Oracle wouldn't look Larss had his chair rotated to face the hologram and held his finger over the pain induction trigger should the Oracle refuse to open his eyes.

That, however, wasn't necessary today. He had learned not to resist stubbornly, but continued to thwart Larss' research whenever possible. The lead researched appreciated the challenge given to him and played their daily game of intrigue with great interest. The man's ability to see into the future defied all scientific reason, yet the results were undeniable…although somewhat uncertain. Events did not always play out as predicted, though that could be attributed, he believed, to actions taken in the interim.

However, the Oracle also appeared to have the ability to see into the past, and those results had indicated that he may have the ability to peer into alternate paths of history, for not all of the results matched with confirmed history, but the more Larss worked with the subject, the more he was led to believe that the accuracy of the questioning had a direct correlation to the correct location of applicable events, thus Neela's ad hock inquiry was problematic to say the least…but he had a duty to perform and he would, as always, perform his best.

The first image to come up was a view of the planet from space, taken by the elementals in orbit and magnified. A small explosive dot formed on the surface in the center of a large metropolis and mushroomed into an expanding explosion that encompassed the entire city.

Larss noted the small auxiliary hologram set into the console that still displayed the image of the Wraith warship.

The second image on the disc was a set of recordings from the debris strewn city after the explosion, but they also did not trigger a response. Either the Oracle was resisting mightily, or he truly couldn't form a connection.

Larss cycled through a mass of additional images on the attacked planets, the third of which finally yielded a response. He split the holographic display between the intelligence recordings and the Oracle's vision.

It was a brief snapshot of movement within one of the Aschen settlements, followed quickly by nothingness.

"What is that?" Neela asked.

Larss ignored her inquiry and reversed the recorded image from the Oracle, then advanced it to the point of blackout, which showed a few frames of a concussion wave enveloping the city and killing the observer…all of the Oracle's visions appeared to originate from the point of view of other people in the galaxy, as if he could see through their future or past eyes.

"Where did the explosion come from?" Larss asked his subject, familiar with the needed phrasing to prompt a response. "Who died first? Who died with foreknowledge?"

That last caveat prompted another image, this inside a small room with a direct view of a device and a hand triggering it. A small countdown appeared and a string of softly spoken words in an alien language were clearly audible. Just before the countdown ended the Oracle gave them a key piece of information…the person's last words, but the Aschen were oblivious to the fact, unable to translate the language.

The Oracle knew the language, however, and he unconsciously followed that strand of recognition back to the point of origin for the explosive device…some type of shipyard with dozens of workers milling about. Human workers.

"Ah, good," Larss said, praising the Oracle. He has such remarkable analytical abilities, and even small strands of recognition would lead him to further visions, even against his own will. "The origin of the explosive device. How was it transported to our world?"

The images shifted again, and Larss dismissed the intelligence recordings Neela had brought so they could see the visions at full size, this one being the interior of a small ship, visible through its pilot's eyes. The design was immediately familiar.

"A Goa'uld cargo ship," Neela recognized from the mass of intelligence data she had sorted through in recent years. "From the Jaffa?"

The Oracle didn't respond to the question.

"No," Larss said, following his own instincts. The Oracle often responded readily to peoples he had personal knowledge of, especially the Earthers. "From Earth?"

The images immediately changed, as if clarifying his inaccurate statement, and showed the view from flight, looking down on the shipyard and the world beneath with clearly identifiable landmasses that did not match Earth's profile, of which Larss had become intricately acquainted with in previous days. Much of the Oracle's insight had come from that world, used by the subject as a distraction against Larss' less poignant questions…and also as a reminder of the Aschen's failure to take the world.

"Not located on Earth," Larss continued, "but is this one of Earth's colonies?"

The images reluctantly shifted, with a brief moment of static indicative of the Oracle attempting to cloud his own thoughts, but it didn't last and the view of several distinctive black space fighters became visible, sitting on the tarmac in neat rows.

The profile of the 302s were easily recognizable to the Aschen.

"The attacks came from an Earth colony," Larss concluded for Neela.

She nodded, partially satisfied. "How did they get the explosive devices past our defenses?"

"A cloaking device, perhaps?" Larss guessed, not directing the question at the Oracle.

"Their technology is primitive. Our sensors have always been able to penetrate their cloaking fields at short range. The epicenter of the explosions was in the middle of the target cities. They could not have approached by ship in a conventional manner."

"Did they come through the stargates?" Larss asked the Oracle, without response.

He frowned, thinking around the problem. "Did anyone see the Earthers before the explosion?"

Suddenly the hologram shifted back to the view of one of the city's denizens walking through the street. A thin blue beam, typical of their defensive drones, fired over the crowd's head and hit an invisible object, momentarily breaching its cloaking field…the triangular hull of the Goa'uld cargo ship was clearly visible amidst the multi-colored mess of refracted light.

"Apparently they can now," Larss noted with some concern.

"The Sentinel's sensors were obviously able to detect the ship at close range," Neela argued. "Why not the units in space or within the city?"

"Perhaps the detection range is extremely limited due to an Earth upgrade."

"We know the Earthers have received technology from the Asgard," Neela said, thinking aloud. "Perhaps they've been slow to implement it into their designs, crude as they are. They still appear to be utilizing hybrid vessels."

Suddenly the hologram shifted to another planet, seen from low orbit, with a curved white ship with a glowing center floating nearby, ostensibly being seen from another ship or station in space.

"What is that?" Neela asked, not recognizing the design…however, the dozens of massive warships rising up from the surface she did recognize.

The Oracle smiled, looking on the holographic display of the vision he was seeing in mind's eye of the Asgard warfleet leaving their homeworld for battle.

Jonas Quinn fixed his gaze directly on Larss and laughed despite the painful headache that always accompanied his visions. "Oh, you're definitely going to get it now."


End file.
